


Something Greater

by rosecake



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mirror Universe, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Spock needs McCoy too much to let him return to his own universe.





	Something Greater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oanja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oanja/gifts).



Spock wouldn't say that the alternate McCoy was handling the transition from the Federation to the Empire _well_ , exactly, but he was doing about as well could be expected. The first few weeks had been the most worrying, back when Spock was worried the shock of being stranded would overwhelm McCoy. It hadn't helped that he'd been too busy with his own maneuvering to offer much assistance.

In a way, though, those weeks of bloody transition as Spock took control of the Enterprise had proven useful. While that level of violence was most certainly traumatic, especially to one with as sensitive a disposition as McCoy, it had given the man something to focus his energy on. McCoy remained dedicated to his profession no matter what manner of refuse washed up in his sickbay, and for a while he'd been too busy up to his elbows in the dead and the dying to find the time for a mental breakdown.

That had come later, when things were calmer, and fortunately Spock had been available to deal with it.

McCoy was better now. He was eating again, and sober, even if only because Spock had made certain he didn't have access to anything alcoholic. And if he was needlessly argumentative, well, that was a trait he shared with his doppelgänger.

The complaining did get tiresome, though.

"It's bad enough I'm stranded on this abattoir of a ship. You could at least give me my own quarters."

They'd had this same argument more than once. Spock let him work in sickbay, which was dangerous enough, but other than that he'd limited McCoy's movements to his own quarters. Spock didn't trust him to keep himself alive absent strict supervision.

"No," said Spock. "You're mine, as far as the crew is concerned, and that buys you at least some protection."

"That's ludicrous," said McCoy, rolling his eyes. "You could pull that trick with Marlena or Jim, but you're a few decades too late to try and pass me off as a kept man."

"Don't sell yourself short."

"I'm serious. There's no way anyone on this ship believes you've taken me in as, what, a consort? It's absurd."

"It's perfectly common Imperial practice. And if anyone thinks my choice of partner odd, I'm sure they'll chalk it up to half-breed erraticism."

McCoy sighed in frustration. "I'm not your pet dog. You can't just keep me locked in here."

"Yes, I can. It's for your own good. You'd be dead within days without me watching over you, possibly hours," said Spock, and McCoy flinched. "Don't think your shift in behavior has gone unnoticed. You still don't have the slightest idea of how to conduct yourself in this universe, and every single person on this ship can sense weakness in you. This isn't the Enterprise you once knew."

"You think I don't know that?" asked McCoy. He was shouting, and Spock probably should have made an attempt to de-escalate the situation, but he felt like speaking his mind instead.

"No, I don't think you do," said Spock.

McCoy tried to respond, but his words got choked up in his anger. Before he had a chance to compose himself Spock took him by the arm. The physical contact shook him into a resigned silence, as it always did.

Spock had been in McCoy's head enough to know that silence was a bad response, wasn't normal for him, but for now he was willing to take advantage of it anyway.

"I know you think you have a handle on things, but you don't. You look at Chapel, you look at Scott, and you still see your friends. You spent eight hours in surgery last week trying to piece back together that ensign Lieutenant Uhura cut open, and you still look at her and think one day all that hardness and cruelty is going to melt away and it's going to be your Uhura standing there. It's not the same Uhura, though. She's gone. Everything from your old life is gone, and none of it is coming back."

He knew, at times, that McCoy looked at him and saw a different Spock. Even with the obvious physical differences, McCoy couldn't help himself.

McCoy stared at him for a moment, his face pale. "Stay out of my head," he snapped.

"I don't need to use my telepathic abilities to read you," said Spock. "That's part of the problem. And I'm not letting you out of my sight until you learn to control your emotions better."

McCoy was silent for so long that Spock almost though the argument was over. "So what if I end up getting myself killed? What does it matter to you?" he finally asked, real curiosity in his voice.

It was a question Spock had himself considered often, and he had yet to come up with a fully satisfactory answer.

"I need allies, if I'm going to be successful."

McCoy looked away from him, and it was hard to tell from his expression whether or not he was satisfied with Spock's response. "You're going to need to do better than me if you want to get anywhere."

"I'm well aware of that," said Spock.

McCoy nodded. "They're going to come back for me," he said, a wavering note of hope in his voice. "They aren't just going to leave me here. They aren't going to rest until they find a way to get me back."

Spock frowned. The initial inter-universal transfer had occurred as a result of a freak convergence of ionic storms and other rare deep space magnetic conditions. As far as McCoy was concerned, it was some sort of secondary burst of interference that had kept him from being switched back with the rest of his party.

In fact, McCoy had been left behind because Spock had deliberately re-routed his transport beam, but Spock saw no reason to let him know that.

Still, Spock was largely in the dark as to exactly _how_ the ion storms had caused an inter-dimensional rift, and by his calculations the odds of replicating the phenomenon outside of the initial conditions were slim to none. Less than a hundredth of a percent, to be precise.

He did not think McCoy would appreciate precision in this matter. Instead, he decided to let McCoy have his hopes for the time being. He was an emotional creature, and as illogical as his hopes were, they might be useful in keeping him relatively stable.

"I'm sure they'll try," he said.

 

  
*

Spock shifted through McCoy's head, looking for a path forward out of the mess the Empire had made for itself in the facts of an alternate history. His belief in such a path forward ebbed and flowed. Here, in McCoy's head, was proof that a peaceful and just version of the Empire could exist. Kirk's story about the Federation had been intriguing, but Spock hadn't really thought it possible until he'd shared in McCoy's experience of it. Still, the historical differences were difficult to get past, and he wasn't confident that the results would be repeatable in his own universe.

"If all you wanted was history and political theory, you made a poor choice," said McCoy as Spock slipped out of the meld, letting his hands drop in the process.

"I did not actually have any choice in the matter," Spock reminded him. Considering that it had come out a bit harsher than he'd intended, and also that it wasn't technically true, he added, "You have more knowledge of your Federation's history than you think. Everything you ever learned is in your head, even if you can't quite recall the information without help."

"I'm sure I've got some old history teachers out there who'd be glad to hear it," said McCoy, rubbing at the spots on his face where Spock had placed his hands. "Good to know all that schooling turned out to be good for something after all."

Spock watched him intently for any sign of serious distress. The first few melds had been difficult, at least for McCoy, but his initial resistance had dimmed over time.

Strictly speaking, the first mind meld should have been sufficient for Spock's purposes. But there was something captivating about seeing the other universe, seeing its morally ambitious Federation thrive against all of human nature. It was like a dream that felt more vivid and real and within his reach when he was in McCoy's head, living his memories of it. A dream he couldn't let go of, even if it would have been smarter, in the end, to let Kirk have his Enterprise and run it as he saw fit.

McCoy was his own small piece of that dream.

And if the melds had a tendency to engender feelings of affection and emotional connection in their subjects over time, well, that was for the best. At the end of the day it could only make things easier on McCoy.

"It's odd, you know, but it doesn't bother me as much as it used to," said McCoy, sliding a hand through his hair. He looked tired, but that wasn't necessarily a result of the mind meld. Humans needed so much sleep. "I thought I'd never get used to it."

"It does get easier, over time. You learn not to fight it."

McCoy looked at him, and even though he'd been in his head only moments ago, Spock couldn't quite pin down the emotion on his face. "Yes," said McCoy. "I suppose that's true."

 

  
*

There was a shift in McCoy's demeanor, subtle enough that Spock paid it no regard at first, but soon it was something he could not ignore. Most likely a sign that he had spent too much time in McCoy's head - he was too sensitive to McCoy's thoughts, to his many feelings, and that was unacceptable. His current position left him no room for distractions.

"What's wrong?" asked Spock.

"Everything's wrong," said McCoy, looking up at him from his position seated on the edge of the bed. "I thought you'd figured that out by now."

Spock sighed. If he was precise in his questions he inevitably got some comment comparing him to a computer, and if he was vague he got useless non-answers. "What, specifically, started bothering you approximately starting two weeks ago?"

"Nothing."

"Don't be difficult," said Spock, his patience fraying around the edges. "I can find out the hard way if you'd rather do that."

McCoy was silent, and for a moment Spock thought he was actually going to push Spock into using a mind meld.

"What made you keep me here?" asked McCoy.

"I did not-" started Spock, but McCoy cut him off.

"Yes, you did. I know you did. The mind-meld goes both ways once you get used to it, you know," said McCoy, a rising note of anger straining his voice. A mind meld could indeed go both ways, but Spock hadn't intended for it to while he was reading McCoy. He was slipping. Next time he would have to exert greater control over himself. "I know full well you sabotaged the transporter."

Spock considered simply erasing the conversation from McCoy's mind, but he was uncertain he could accomplish it without causing long-term damage. No, now that the accusation had been made, he may as well respond to it.

"It was a quick decision," said Spock. Bordering on impulsive, if he was honest with himself, and even now he had difficulty articulating his reasons. "Kirk was convincing, but I needed to know if the things he spoke about were true. It wasn't until I looked inside your head that I knew something like the Federation was possible."

McCoy looked at him, his jaw tight. "That's hardly a reason to keep me here."

"No, perhaps not. But there was hope for the future in your mind, a faith in your fellow man. That isn't something we have here. And I thought, at that moment, that it was something we needed here."

McCoy looked away as Spock spoke.

"Do you at least feel bad about it?"

"No," said Spock.

McCoy took a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment Spock was concerned he was going to collapse into hysterics.

"I'm leaving," said McCoy. He wasn't shouting, but his voice was unsteady. "I'm going to break open if I have to stay here another second."

McCoy was merely human, and not a particularly strong or fast human at that, and Spock could have easily stopped him from leaving. But he took McCoy at his word, and whatever else Spock may have done to him, he did not want to see McCoy break.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had faked attrition and apologized. But he had gone over his logic time and time again, and if given the chance to do it all over again, he'd do the exact same thing.

 

  
*

Spock had Chapel tightly caught up in a web of blackmail and bribery, and as such was confident that she would watch out for McCoy's well-being as he had instructed. McCoy was safe enough sleeping in his sickbay offices. Still, McCoy's absence was a distraction, a worry made all the more irritating by the fact that Spock realized it was unnecessary.

Not only was McCoy currently safe, or at least as safe as he could be on an Imperial ship, his return was inevitable. McCoy could be angry with him - and McCoy was often angry with him, even prior to realizing Spock's responsibility for his current state, a status quo inherited from his relationship with the other Spock - but it wouldn't matter much in the end. Spock was the only person he knew on the ISS Enterprise, and Spock would be the one he came looking for when he'd had enough of being alone.

It didn't take him very long. McCoy might be stubborn, but he'd been worn down by his time in the Empire, and he was at heart a social creature. He didn't handle isolation well.

"I don't trust you," said McCoy. It was the first thing he said to Spock after weeks of careful avoidance.

"Understandable," said Spock.

McCoy stood in the doorway, making no move to enter. Spock had no desire to talk in a wide-open hallway, but he still resisted the urge to drag him inside. He'd come in on his own soon enough.

"The thing is though-" said McCoy, and he stopped to sigh before starting again. "The thing is, and this is so sad, but the thing is there's nobody else on this godforsaken ship I trust _more_ than you."

"If it makes you feel any better, I could say the same thing about you," said Spock.

McCoy might be furious with him, but that fury did not rise to the level of hate. That was far better than could be said for most of the crew's feelings towards him. And even if McCoy did hate him, he was still a child of the Federation. He was the sort of person to treat his enemies with more kindness than most people in the Empire treated their friends.

"That doesn't make me feel better," said McCoy as he edged past Spock into their quarters.

"What made you decide to come back?"

"I missed you, you heartless bastard," said McCoy, dropping onto the bed. Despite the insult there was very little venom in his words.

"I missed you too," said Spock.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

Spock shrugged, the human gesture rolling off his shoulders before he could think to stop it. He sat next to McCoy, placing one hand lightly against his face. "Agreed. But it is what it is."

McCoy raised a hand to Spock's wrist, almost as if he meant to pull Spock's hand away, but then he let it rest there instead. "I don't want another mind meld."

"What do you want, then? Why are you here?"

"I just want you to do something decent for once," said McCoy. He sounded frustrated, more with himself than with Spock. "Just once."

It was a vague request, so vague Spock could interpret it however he wanted. And if he didn't want a meld, well, maybe physical intimacy was better than mental. Spock leaned in, and facing no resistance or reluctance, kissed McCoy. He didn't bother trying to suppress the flush of satisfaction that washed over him when McCoy opened his mouth to him.

"Yes, that works," said McCoy as Spock pushed him on his back. "That works just fine."

It wasn't long before the kissing wasn't enough, and then McCoy was complaining. Complaining that Spock was taking too long to strip his clothes off, too long to get lubricant, too long to get his cock slick enough for intercourse. McCoy complained right up until the moment Spock turned him over on his stomach and slid inside him, burying himself completely in the first thrust, and then the only sounds McCoy made were incoherent moans of satisfaction.

"Is this what you came back for?" said Spock. He was breathing heavily, but that was nothing compared to McCoy, who was coming apart at the seams underneath him.

"No," said McCoy, a trembling wreck. He seemed to be finding it difficult to speak clearly. "No, I didn't- I didn't realize I wanted this."

Spock wasn't sure he believed that. The undercurrent of desire had always been there, plain enough to him even if McCoy had never admitted it to himself. And even if it had started off as a transference of feelings for the other Spock, he was confident it was something more now. He was always going to be in McCoy's head now, even if McCoy did somehow make it back to his own universe.

McCoy shuddered as he came, pressed into the mattress, and it just drove Spock to push harder, some of his control slipping as his fingers dug into McCoy's hips. McCoy moaned, clearly not minding it in the slightest. Spock didn't last much longer than McCoy, driven over the edge by the satisfaction radiating off him. Some semblance of sanity returned to him then, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty over having had sex for no other reason than he wanted to. Or maybe just because he knew it would tie McCoy closer to him, even though he couldn't properly articulate a logical reason for wanting to keep McCoy close.

He slumped down on top of McCoy, pinning him to the bed, relishing in the full body contact even after having sated himself. "Do you still want your own quarters?"

McCoy sighed. "It's unfair asking me that now. Ask again in the morning, when I've had time to recover."

Spock smiled. Now, or in the morning, the timing didn't matter. McCoy was his, and he wasn't leaving.

 

  
*

McCoy's faith in humanity was not as strong as it once was, but it was still strong enough to bleed through the bond they shared. Spock could feel the optimism taking root in him, even as all evidence told him that his quest to reform the Terran Empire was doomed. Perhaps that was to be expected - everything about the relationship had been a bad idea from the start, starting with the moment he refused to let McCoy return to his rightful place. McCoy fit perfectly with his own universe; here, in the Empire, he was a corrosive element. Spock could not afford weakness, not if he wanted to survive to old age.

The intelligent thing to do would be to remove the man, and the logical, Vulcan side of Spock screamed for him to do just that. He had always been too human for his own good, though, and it was the emotional side of him that won out.

McCoy was his. McCoy's dreams and hopes were his. And maybe one day he'd be worthy of having them.


End file.
